My Angels
by No-Name-Kate
Summary: These are my favorite type of days, ones where I can spend them with my angels. This story gives you a little peak into my life- the life of Blaine Hummel-Anderson.  Future-Fic!


I've been watching him work for the past half hour now. Don't misunderstand here, I'm not doing anything creepy, I'm just enjoying the scene. He's usually so put together and proper so seeing him in these old, torn jeans and a red striped bandana is kind of plesent. He's wearing his glasses too, the thick tortoise shell frames. I love him in those glasses.

The muscles in his arms and shoulder flex as he whips the large pink comforter into the air and lays it back down gracefully on the bed. He tucks the blanket into the front side of the bed, folding it over at the top, and then leans over the bed to tuck it into the side by the wall.

Best. View. Ever.

That ass in those jeans, my personal Kryptonite. He's still blissfully unaware of my presence still, even singing a bit louder now.

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they're like its better than yours, damn right it's better than yours."

His hips sway in a tantalizing motion almost making me fall to the floor. He's completely without inhibitions and it gives me a little swell of pride. I want him to live the rest of his life like this moment; completely unguarded and free. It was great to see this new side to him, but no matter how great this moment is it was bound to end.

"Blaine!" His face lights up and he instantly stops dancing at the sight of me leaning on the door frame.

"Hey babe." I walk into the room and wrap my arms around that delicious waist. "Those were some pretty amazing dance moves."

He slaps my arm, "How long have you been there? I thought you were at the park."

"I was at the park, we got home thirty minutes ago."

"You were here for almost an hour and you didn't help me clean?" He asks in mock anger.

"Kurt, I'd much rather watch you. I never knew cleaning a bedroom could be so sexy." I whisper into his ear causing him to shiver. He lays his head on my shoulder and we just stand there.

"I love you." He says it out of the blue. It's been, gosh seven or eight years now, but I don't think I'll ever stop felling the tingling butterflies that come with his words.

"I love you too." I place a kiss on his neck and he leans his head back to give me more room. Just as I'm about to take this to another level (and another bedroom) we're interupted by a soft voice from the doorway.

"Daddy? Papa? Wus for dinner?" Our little angel, Grace, shuffles up to us her little stuffed moose tucked tightly under her arm. Kurt bends down to pick her up and balences the three-year-old on his hip.

"Well what would you like Miss Gracie." Kurt adjusts her fuzzy light pink sweater and takes her to the kitchen area of our apartment. She and Kurt go on a mini savenger hunt in the kitchen to find something for dinner.

I find myself watching them both now, Grace's curly blonde hair was still a little mussy from her nap after the park and Kurt still had a pink tinge on his cheeks. They really look like father and daughter despite Grace being adopted. I wonder if- together- we all look like a family.

"Daddy," Grace pulls on my hand. "Papa says we can help make dinner."

I chuckle and follow my little girl's lead. "Well then lets try our best to help." I recall the last time Graceie and I tried to help with the Mac & Cheese, cleaning cheese and elbow noodles out of my hair was not a plesent way to spend my weekend (even if a bubble bath with my two angels was pretty fun).

"So baby, what are we making." I ask as Grace climbs up onto her stool so she can reach the counter.

"Ravioli." Both Grace and Kurt answer at the same time. Kurt blushes and I laugh, kissing both of their foreheads.

"Awesome." I flour the counter so Kurt and Grace can roll out the dough for the ravioli.

"Now what?" Grace asks as the ravioli boil, each little square stuffed with cheese.

"Now we make the marinara sauce." Kurt taps her nose and she sticks out her tounge.

I absolutely love days like these. Where every one is happy, we can work together and Rachel isn't pounding around in post-break-up anger. After dinner we sit on the couch, Kurt curled up into my side and Grace sat between us.

"So Gracie," Kurt asks kissing the top of her head, "what movie did you pick?"

"Mulan." She looks up at us both smiling, her front left tooth missing- safe under her pillow for the tooth fairy.

Half way through the movie she falls asleep, Kurt puts off his own drowsyness to carry her to her castle of a room. Painted butterflies- done by Burt, who would've guessed- cover the wall and a glittering white canopy drapes down above the bed. Kurt places her gently under the covers and gives her yet another kiss. I walk with him as he shuffles to our bedroom, leaving the door open just a bit. We both relish the feeling of our soft covers and dive under them as well. Kurt curls up against me and I gladly wrap my arms around him. He sighs in thanks and we fall asleep, at least until later in the night when Grace sneaks her way in between us.

This, is love. This, is my life.

I am Blaine Hummel-Anderson, and these two blondies are my angels.

A/N

Someone help me I'm supposed to be cleaning but the inspiration just will not stop! I have to get clean this mess of a room but this laptop just wont shut up. "Kate," it calls, "you know you want to write." Pfft, what evah. Thanks for reading :/ (I still have to clean, there are blankets on the desk and pillows on the floor. Gahhh).

Thank You.

-N.N.K.


End file.
